Quiet matilda

Have you ever wondered, well I have, About how when I say, say, red, for example, There's no way of knowing if red Means the same thing in your head As red means in my head When someone says red? And how if we are travelling At almost the speed of light, And we're holding a light, That light would still travel away from us At the full speed of light? Which seems right in a way, But I'm trying to say... I'm not sure... But I'm wondering inside my head, I'm not just a bit different from some of my friends... These answers that come into my mind unbidden... These stories delivered to me fully written... And when everyone shouts - they seem to like shouting - The noise in my head is incredibly loud, And I just wish they'd stop, my dad and my mum, And the telly and stories would stop just for once. I'm sorry - I'm not quite explaining it right, But this noise becomes anger, and the anger is light, And its burning inside me would usually fade, But it isn't today, and the heat and the shouting, And my heart is pounding, and my eyes are burning, And suddenly everything, everything is... Quiet... Like silence, but not really silent... Just that still sort of quiet Like the sound of a page being turned in a book, Or a pause in a walk in the woods. Quiet... Like silence, but not really silent... Just that nice kind of quiet, Like the sound when you lie upside down in your bed. Just the sound of your heart in your head... And though the people around me, Their mouths are still moving, The words they are forming Cannot reach me anymore. And it is quiet... And I am warm... Like I've sailed Into the eye of the storm...